Happily Ever After
by hollywood.romantic
Summary: Sometimes I can’t help but stare. Her beauty captures my eyes....Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. Once you hear his cold words, you’re unable to move or think. So tonight I shall end my pain. DMHG .oneshot. R&R DM's POV


**Happily Ever After**

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. I only own the plot of this fic.**

**123456789123456789123456789123456789123456789123456789123456789123456789**

**123456789**

I stand at the window, looking over the grounds of the school I have attended since the age of eleven. I know that she's in the room next to me. So close…yet so far. I want her so badly. If only she knew that my love for her was greater than the distance from here to those stars in the cloudless sky.

I love the way her silky brown hair flows down her back….I love the way her small slender body moves…I hate how her eyes of chocolate hardly notice me. The way her nose scrunches up when she's confused…Her soft lips speak words of intelligence, grace, beauty. She is the most beautiful creature to walk this earth and I can't have her. Sometimes I can't help but stare. Her beauty captures my eyes.

"What are you starring at?" Her words stab at my heart. She would never look at me twice. I'm a dirty piece of scum to her. Little does she know, there lies a person with feelings, emotions and virtues inside of this scarred body. If only I could find a way to show her…

What am I thinking? Falling in love with a muggle-born who doesn't even love me back. That would certainly not please Father. If he ever found out…God only knows what he'd do. What form of torture would he use? The belt perhaps? His cigar? Would his own hands turn me into a personal punching bag yet again? No matter what he chose to use, he'd top it all off with his cold icy words. It's almost as if his words freeze your body. Once you hear them, you're unable to move or think. They pierce your soul not letting it heal… I look down at my body. Whip marks tattoo my left side. Those are from the belt. A few round burns tattoo my right arm. Those are from the cigars. Bruises discolour my skin. Those are from his own hands. Followed by the small scrapes from the rings that cover his fingers. I glance down at my left arm. Cuts have engraved themselves top to bottom. But these cuts aren't from Father. They are far too precise. No, these thin red lines that cover my arm, horizontally and vertically are from my own hands.

Each cut represents a problem, a worry, a fear that has been released from my soul. Though they are only temporary releases. Some come from the pocket knife, some come from the small silver razor blade I keep by my side at all times. I take the silver piece of metal off my night stand hold it up to my face. Speckles of a red liquid cover one side. That was from the very first night. I had just come home for Christmas Holidays. I was sitting in my room, knowing something was bothering my spirit. It felt as if I had forgotten something. Something important. Not an necessarily an object… It was then that her face flashed before my eyes. That night, only 2 weeks ago I had realized who I had fallen in love with. For those two weeks it was tearing me apart, not being able to see her gorgeous face. What a nice way to spend you Christmas. Your mother never coming home, in fear of her own husband and your father using you as his own punching bag. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him.

So tonight I shall end my pain. I take my sharp, silver scrape of metal and press it against my skin. It gets dragged along, tearing open the flesh. A drop of blood lands on the floor.

I hate you Father! Drop. Burn in Hell! Drop. See what you've done? Drop. I will always love her. Drop. I will see you again one day. Drop. Live your life to the fullest, my love. Drop. I will never forget you Mother. Drop. Don't let dad hurt you anymore. Drop. It's not your fault. Drop. Tell dad that he did it. Drop. He is the one that killed me. Drop. I have to leave you now. I will be waiting for you when your time comes Mother. I will wait for you to, you lovely goddess.

I'm starting to feel dizzy and the room that is now filled with my pain starts to spin. My knees become weak and my body hits the cold floor hard. Everything is starting to go black…There is no such thing as Happily Ever After.

Love always,

Draco.

123456879123456789123456789123456789

Hermione Granger knocked on the Head Boy's bedroom door lightly. "It's time for rounds. Hurry up." She waited for some sort of response and when none was given she knocked again. "Draco? I know you're in there. Are you coming?" Again, she got no response. This time she didn't knock. She turned the door knob slowly and found that the room was unlocked. She stepped inside and what she saw cast horror upon her face and caused salty tears to leak from her big brown eyes. She knelt down beside the pile of lifelessness and picked a piece of parchment off the ground.

123456789123456789123456789123456789

The cold wind stung her eyes as she stared at the tombstone in front of her. Underneath his name and the date of his death was a quote that once came from her own mouth.

"_Love will never be a wasted emotion. Wasting love is like wasting Life." _Hermione knelt and placed a single white rose at the base of the grave. Silent tears trickled down her cheeks as she said her goodbye.

"I wish I could have had a chance to say this before you took your own life…I love you too Draco Malfoy."


End file.
